Stabat Mater At the cross her station keeping, Stood the mournful Mother weeping, Close to Jesus to the last. Through her heart, His sorrow sharing, All His bitter anguish bearing, Now at length the sword had pass'd. Can the human heart refrain From partaking in her pain, In that Mother's pain untold?
O thou Mother! fount of love! Touch my spirit from above; Make my heart with thine accord. Let me, to my latest breath, In my body bear the death Of that dying Son of thine. Christ, when Thou shalt call me hence, Be Thy Mother my defense, Be Thy cross my victory.